


the art of boxes

by littleredcardigan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Darcy Lewis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, F/M, Female Alphas, Fluff, Gender Issues, Knotting, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Omega Loki, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Timeline is all screwed up, they both need hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6340813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleredcardigan/pseuds/littleredcardigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's attracted to pretty things, alright? And short inky hair and starlight skin and bright green eyes and endless legs are <em>definitely</em> on that list of pretty things. </p><p>He smells like peppermint dipped in rich dark chocolate, a scent that has her hormones spiking again and her brain turning into a useless goop, and she’s too busy drooling over him to realize that he’s on the brink of heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the art of boxes

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote an Alpha Darcy fic. Because I wanted to. The only Alpha Darcy fic I found was suzukiblu's [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3670266/chapters/8113752) and it's utterly fantastic. Seriously, read it if you haven't already, even if you're not into Darcy/Bucky. 
> 
> Also, because there's not enough alpha female fics in general. 
> 
> This story contains weirdass biology concepts and other triggers (read the tags above), so if you're not into any of this, I suggest you read no further.

Darcy doesn’t bother to change her clothes – fuck you, her moose pajamas are awesome – when she heads out towards her favorite convenience store.

It’s the only store she’s willing to walk at this hour because it’s the only place that’s still open and has her beloved, but also equally inconspicuous, rum raisin ice cream. She’s nearly a block away from the market when she smells the saccharine scent of an omega in heat, the scent of _multiple_ omegas in heat, and the fact that they’re in a group sets her even more on edge. They’ve been following her for the past seven minutes and her hand drops into her bag, brushing the solid edge of her taser.

Maybe they’re a bunch of sweet omegas who intend on asking her nicely, but she can’t be too sure of that, not after the last time something like this happened. Her alpha instincts are split between wanting to fight to protect herself and wanting to fuck them like their scents are begging her to and that’s how the bad omegas get away with it, she supposes, getting the alphas drunk on their pheromones so that the omegas could do whatever they wanted with them. Even if the answer had been no.

But then again, alphas had been taking omegas without their consent long before laws made that shit illegal. Hell, they’re still doing it, so it makes sense that omegas would retaliate in the same manner. It still doesn’t make it right though, using their heat to trap alphas like that, but again, society says her biology makes her a dumb knothead so what the hell does she know?

She briskly turns around to face the tall three omegas tailing her and can’t help but inhale in because they smell really, _really_ good.

And judging by the similar smirks on their faces, they know it for a fact.

“You boys need something?” Probably not the best thing to say in this context, but Darcy pastes on a smile anyway, even though she already knows how this is going to end.

The tallest one – blonde, brown eyes, textbook omega pretty – chuckles and it’s like ice rolling down her spine. “I think you already know, sweetheart.”

From the looks of it, they’re three rich college boys who are used to getting what they want with either a bat of their lashes or a small fortune from their parents’ pockets. To add further insult to injury, their eyes haven’t looked at her face once, preferring to gaze at what her chest and her crotch have to offer.

“Guys, a little tact here,” she says dryly, an arch to one of her eyebrows. “Look, I’m not interested, okay? I’m sure there are plenty alphas in this city who would love to be a part of this orgy, so go find them and, I don’t know, _fuck off_ already.”

“Why go looking for other alphas when we already have you here with us?” Another one pipes up, shoving his hands in his pockets and letting an easy smile cross his face like this whole thing’s going to go down like some goddamned walk in a park. “You look like you can handle all three of us, little girl.”

The one edging closer to her, the one that smells like a fancy strawberry crème cake, reaches out to make a grab at her neck, but she ducks her head to the side at the last minute. Her hand snaps out to wrap around his wrist instead, keeping that arm extended all the way out so that she can land a sharp right hook into the underside of his jaw. He stumbles back and the reminder that he’s in heat almost makes her stop, but then she remembers his cruel smile and knocks him out with another hard uppercut. And what a surprise, little Darcy Lewis can fight, can commit homicide if she wanted to. But her parents taught her better manners than that.

It’s always a god-awful experience hurting omegas, no matter what that reason is. Her instincts scream at her to protect them, especially when they’re in heat, so Darcy can’t understand why other alphas would want to take advantage of them other than to satisfy their own urges. A pit in her stomach settles at the sight of the unconscious omega – done by her own hand nonetheless – but she’s not going to make the same mistake of letting omegas leverage their heats over her.

Darcy completely pulls out her taser, mentally coming up with a half-assed plan where she can tase one omega and finish off the last one with the rest of her limbs, yet that particular moment of glory never comes. One minute they’re running at her with fury etched across their features and the next, the two omegas are flying towards the brick wall behind her, blood smearing both the wall and the ground. She blinks in bewilderment, wondering if she had actually just seen some magical force take out two would-be rapists for her. Looking up, she sees imprints of green lingering in the air, slowly fading away like pilfered smoke.

“Holy shit,” she manages because, hello, _magic_. She reaches out to touch one of the green traces and ends up oddly disappointed when it disappears through her fingers.

She holds back a startled yell when a man with towering height – Christ, just nearly as tall as Thor – appears out of nowhere. Darcy would backtrack even more if it wasn’t for the fact that the guy in front of her is one of the most beautiful people she’s ever seen. She lives in a tower filled with ridiculously beautiful people, so that’s saying something.

Darcy almost doesn’t want to admit this to herself because then she would just sound like an awfully shallow person, but she’s attracted to pretty things, alright? And short inky hair and starlight skin and bright green eyes and endless legs are _definitely_ on that list of pretty things. He smells like peppermint dipped in rich dark chocolate, a scent that has her hormones spiking again and her brain turning into a useless goop, and she’s too busy drooling over him to realize that he’s on the brink of heat.

Wait a minute: green eyes, black hair, otherworldly beauty, magic—

“Loki?”

The omega’s head snaps up at the name and there’s a split second before he’s right there, looming over her with narrowed eyes. “How do you know my name, mortal?”

“Uh, from your brother, Thor?” Which is actually true, considering the insane amount of time Thor spends talking about his younger brother.

From what Thor’s told her, Loki had been responsible for the Chitauri invasion a few years back, but he had also been the one to close the portal. It turns out that Loki had been mind-controlled the whole time by some alien asshole named Thanos and had managed to break out of it halfway through the battle.

Loki disappeared right after the battle and remained that way for two years. Until now, apparently.

“He’s never going to stop looking for you, dude,” Darcy says out of the blue, her eyes drawing to the way his broad shoulders arrange themselves into a taut line. Her brain reads this as _distressed omega_ and fuck, that always does wonders to her instincts. She scrambles to make this better, to make _him_ feel better: “Thor talks about you a lot, you know? How brilliant you are, how impressive your magic is – which I can honestly vouch for now – how many shitty situations you’ve gotten him out of. Granted, most of his speeches are in iambic pentameter and I almost can’t understand him sometimes, but talking about you is like his daily fix.”

The relationship between the two Asgardian princes is complicated at best and something she’s not going to voluntarily touch with a ten-foot pole, but it’s still a sad thing to think about whenever it comes to mind, or whenever Thor brings it up, and she wants both brothers to be happy. Thor had told her many childhood stories, before the weight of power and greed crushed them both, and now that she can finally put a face to Loki’s name, she thinks it would be breathtaking to see Loki’s mouth curve into a genuine smile or part to make room for an honest laugh.

His jaw remains tightly clenched, but at least his body stops looking as though it’s only made of rigid edges and sharp lines.

“So,” she blurts out, loud enough to attempt to hide the fact that his heat is so very obviously affecting her. “You’re, ah. You’re about to...”

“Yes?” Loki tips his head down, his tongue peeking through his lips to wet the lower one.

And there it is – there’s the telltale mischief Thor’s always blabbering away about in sonnets. He’s grinning a wolf smile down at Darcy and the desire is heavy in his eyes, pupils already wavering, and she wants him in a way that hadn’t been reciprocated with the three college boys. Loki looks like he’s going to eat her alive and she’s not going to lie, her knot’s totally signed up for this.

It doesn’t help that he’s so _close_ to her too. Or maybe it does, depending on how you look at it.  “I could help,” she says.

“Really?” Loki’s still simpering at her through those unfairly long lashes of his and she has to remind herself repeatedly to breathe out. “You gave me the impression that you weren’t in the mood for such proclivities.”

“Those assholes didn’t ask nicely. Not sure if they ever had to ask for anything in their sorry lives.” Whoa, too bitter, Lewis. She gives him a lopsided smile. “Whattaya say? Need a heat partner?”

Loki’s answer is to press up to her even closer, dropping his head – and he _really_ has to bend his head, considering her own height barely reaches his chest – where he does the most adorable notion of rubbing his nose along the junction of her neck and shoulder a couple of times before sticking it behind her ear. He lets out a low exhale, his breath whispering across her throat in a way that gives her shivers, and the tiny tremor she hears from him signals that his heat is approaching faster.

When she first saw him, there had been feral look in his eyes that made him undeniably dangerous, if what he displayed moments earlier hadn’t been enough of an indication, but something really terrible must have happened to him for that expression to be adorning his face. Darcy doesn’t want to guess what happened to him in the last two years or what happened after he fell from the Bifrost because then that’ll just make her go crazy or incredibly angry.  

She’s just going to have to be content with the fact that the universe is just a naturally shitty place, all nine realms of them. Sadly enough, this is something that’s gotten her through the worst years of her life.

“You smell good,” he mumbles.

“Trust me, you smell way, way better.” The god makes a soft noise when she tiptoes just rub the nape of his neck. “My name is Darcy by the way. Darcy Lewis.”

“Very well, Miss Lewis.”

His _voice_ is even gorgeous and as much as she can imagine how wrecked it’ll sound like when he’s in the deepest throes of his heat, she can also imagine him reading poems or better yet – audiobooks.

Darcy pulls back suddenly and given the glare she automatically receives from Loki, she’s firmly sure he doesn’t like that at all.

“Sorry, but do you mind if we could stop by somewhere first?”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck _yeah_!” Darcy resists the urge to squeal as she plucks the rum raisin ice cream carton from the fridge and holds it up victoriously like it’s Simba with the _Circle of Life_ playing in the background. “Look, I got the last one!”

Loki crosses his arms and looks away in disdain. “Glad to see that _one_ of us is satisfied.”

She rolls her eyes, but an inevitable chuckle escapes her.

The murderous look on his face had nearly caused the poor cashier to shit his pants, but Loki’s just a baby step away from entering his heat, so his behavior is understandable. His scent had gained some unwarranted attention from the only other two alphas in the store, but before Darcy could snap her teeth at them the way she had wanted to, the barely-contained violence in Loki’s expression had instantly sent them scampering with their tails between their legs.

Loki had told her that he was currently staying at a hotel suite and she’s not going to risk their repulsive prices on commodities, so she sets out to buy them herself. She buys the usual heat snacks, ranging from granola bars to even different types of fruit (“Grapes,” Loki snaps, terse. “The green ones.”), as well as a pack of small water bottles for the moments in between.

“Is there any other drink you want? You like apple juice?”

“Why, pray tell, does it matter?” comes his grumble in response.

“To keep us hydrated and well-nourished,” Darcy points out. “We’re not going into this heat like two preteens who don’t know what to do. Plus, if you won’t want to drink it during breaks, I can just give it to you during aftercare.”

His face turns wary, his brows furrowed together in confusion. “What is aftercare?”

And that right there? That _pisses_ her off.

Because this implies that he either really doesn’t know what aftercare is or that he’s only ever had shitty alphas who never gave him proper aftercare in the whole duration of his life. 

Darcy closes her eyes, forces her pheromones to calm down. “I am going to coddle the _shit_ out of you,” she tells him calmly. “Now, what do you like to drink?”

There must be enough alpha inflection in her voice because he doesn’t argue with her on this one. Instead, his eyes grow wide and he subconsciously draws his bottom lip in his mouth, cheeks pinking in an actual _blush_ that makes her lose her train of thought because, goddamn, that’s a fucking good look on him. So alpha voice is a turn-on for him? Huh. His scent had spiked at the demand in her timbre and she doesn’t use the alpha voice a lot, but if it gets this kind of reaction, maybe she’ll start using it more often.

“I’m quite fond of your tea,” Loki finally says, quiet.

She nods, internally grateful that she has an excuse to look away from his face because watching him bite his lip sort of makes her feel like a pervert. A huge one. She grabs several different boxes of Twinings and after they leave that aisle, she brushes her fingers across his wrist, more of a way to calm herself down and appease him at the same time. Darcy tugs him along and he trails after her like a hapless, semi-grumpy little puppy.

“What are these?” he asks when they approach a rather special aisle.

“Condoms.” Darcy’s actually proud of how steady her tone is – the talk she had with Thor on Midgardian forms of birth control had been a _disaster_ – now that she can say that she’s mature enough to handle this conversation better than she did with his older brother. “Alphas and betas wear it on their cocks before they have sex with their partners as a safety precaution. It helps prevent pregnancy.”

“We don’t need these.”

“Oh? Lokes, I know you want my knot that badly, but don’t you think it’s a little too early to be parents? We just met. Like, a half hour ago.”

He huffs as if her incomprehension is nothing more than a mere inconvenience to him. Of course. “My magic works better than...whatever this is.”

“What’s the overall effectiveness rate of your magic?” she throws back at him, just to be a little shit.

Loki’s brow lifts and there’s so much elegance in that small gesture. “It has worked for me for well over a millennia.”

Sometimes Darcy forgets that Thor’s so much older than he looks, that he has lived and will continue to live longer than everyone on earth. It’s a sobering thought, so she disregards it quickly and snatches a box of condoms anyway, just to be on the safe side. Loki makes another annoyed noise, edging out into a growl when she fondly pats his ass in a half-hearted attempt pacify him.

And she’s lucky that he’s stuck with her this long because she knows Loki could have easily gotten any other alpha to be his heat partner. He didn’t have to go on this thrilling convenience store adventure with her, seeing that he could have ditched her long before it got to this point. Nonetheless, Darcy’s happy that he didn’t just turn her into a bug and squash her with the heel of his boot for making him wait. She swears on her mortal heart that she’s going to make it up to him.

The cashier looks like he’d rather be somewhere when they finally approach the register, especially with Loki threatening to go on a murdering rampage if he doesn’t get a fucking knot in him right now – okay, _okay_ , she gets it – and wow, she’s never seen someone ring up her items and bag them as fast as this cashier does. They’re mostly sloths when Darcy’s in a rush to get somewhere, so she’s definitely considering on bringing Loki with her whenever she goes midnight grocery shopping.

When they’re outside, she turns to him. “So, your place or mine? I guess I could call a cab to get us there quicker—”

Loki suddenly grabs her arm and when it feels like iron bands are tightly squeezing around her chest, she thinks: _oh my god, I’m fucking dying._

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, Darcy’s not dead.

She opens her eyes a second later to find out that she’s not on the streets of Manhattan, but in a pretty swanky hotel suite instead.

Darcy swallows tightly. “Okay, let’s never do that again,” she hears herself murmuring and despite the fact that she wants to really puke right now, she can’t because she’s supposed to be sexy for the imminent heat, not gross like she is now. Thankfully, this temporary sickness only lasts about five minutes, but she can still feel Loki getting antsy beside her.

After stocking the items away in the kitchen as quickly as she possibly can, she barely takes in a breath before Loki’s yanking her to the bedroom. She tries not to bump into furniture that’s fit for the filthy rich, but at the rate the omega’s going, it’s miracle they don’t get into an accident along the way.

He’s making her eyes dilate, the frosty sweetness of his scent causing her blood to thrum along her veins in anticipation, and it makes her mouth dry to feel how much he wants her. How much he _needs_ her. She hasn’t known him for long, but she can tell that he dislikes the desperation he’s giving off right at this moment, that loss of control as his body reacts to everything else for him. Yet his grip around her wrist is unrelenting, fingers pressing in hard enough to leave dotted bruises.

She lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles, relishing in the way his breath hitches sharply at his throat. “Do you want to be on top or bottom?”

“You’re asking for _my_ preference?” he husks out a deep chuckle against her cheek, a hint of incredulity behind the hazy elation. “How courteous of you, _Darcy_.”

That’s the first time he says her first name and it rolls around his mouth like absolute sex dripping off his tongue, all honeyed and _sinful_. He gently shoves her – well, gently for him, that is – until she’s sprawled across the king-sized mattress and the alpha in her cheers gleefully when he drapes his thighs over hers, straddling her in one fluid motion. He rises over her like the pagan creature he truly is, the black of his pupils encompassing most of his orbs so that she can only see a sliver of those impossible green eyes.

It’s not a complete surprise when he abruptly bends down until their foreheads touch, until long and elegant fingers curve along her elbows. What is a surprise is when he presses his mouth against hers and just _breathes_ her in like it hurts, like he’s aching for her. And he probably is, what with the way she can already feel his wetness spreading on her lap, his opening swelling with so much want, so agonizingly _ready_ and as much of a happy participant she is, she feels bad for making him wait this long.

The slowness of the kiss, the bursting warmth, the incredible intimacy of it all – Darcy’s not the type to go swooning for great kisses, but she can’t deny that this is one of the best she’s received in her entire life. She just doesn’t expect this from someone like him, who can effortlessly transition from sweet and wanting to sharp and biting. With the impatience he had expressed before, she’d imagine that he would fuck her and get it over with, but these many surprising facets of Loki just make him all the more compelling to be honest. And, well, she likes it. Likes him.

Loki feels like magic because she already loves the way his smile curls against her mouth, they way his silver tongue slips through parted lips to taste and explore and claim for his own. The quiet noise he makes is an exquisite wordless tune, the barest of hums shared between brief exhales, and her eyes open woozily to see his dark lashes dance across his aristocratic cheekbones as he peers down at her like he’s a predator who knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. His knees close in tighter against her hipbones and, what the fuck, why do they still have clothes on? She’s about to make a cheeky suggestion when his hands press down on her shoulders—

(—hands shoving her shoulders down, fingers digging into her throat, and she can’t breathe, can’t see because she’s _choking_ —)

“Darcy?” Loki asks, dropping his hands immediately when he notices how pale she’s gotten. “What—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, but it sounds an awful lot like wheezing to her. How pathetic. “Can you maybe – maybe not press down too hard? Gods, Loki, I’m so sorry—”

Seriously, why is this happening to her _now_? Darcy had been fine before.

(Liar.)

“Hush,” the omega murmurs along her mouth, steadily opening it in a kiss that does wonders in soothing her. “It was my mistake,” he adds, which she wants to argue with right away, but then he cups her cheek with one palm, thumb stroking delicately. “Is this better?”

It actually is, but Darcy feels so ashamed right now that it doesn’t even matter. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” she replies with a groan, leaning into his hand for a couple of seconds before she flips them over with a tangle of their legs, sliding down to sit between his legs. She grins at him and it’s totally not fake – at least, not by that much anyway. “This is supposed to be about _you_. And it’s going to be all about you, I fucking swear to the gods.”

“What are you doing?” is Loki’s inquiry when she shucks off his pants to reveal smooth, slender legs. His underwear and his long-sleeved shirt quickly join the pants on the floor and his cock is already curving against his stomach, beads of pre-come dripping from the slit.

“I’m gonna rim you.” There’s probably another word in Asgardian or whatever that means rimming, but he clearly doesn’t understand her. “I’m going to, er, take you with my mouth. Or maybe penetrate? Lick you open with my tongue?”

He blinks. _“Oh.”_

Ah, there we go. And look, that pretty blush is back again.

Darcy throws his legs over her shoulders, turning her head to run her lips over his left inner thigh. His pheromones go crazy at that and his scent smells so much sweeter up close, his hole stretched wide and soaking with an _obscene_ amount of slick. Winking at him and receiving a gaze that’s both narrowed and urgent in return, she leans in.

To no one’s surprise, Loki trembles gorgeously around her tongue, a strangled yelp leaving him once she first swipes the broad side of her tongue over the entirety of his sopping channel as she licks rakishly at the balls resting underneath his straining cock. Her tongue dips into him and flicks upward, languidly lapping at his slick until the shivers that quaked at his thighs has his pulse pounding louder and harder against her mouth, sweet warm heat welcoming her greedily. His hands eventually find their way into her hair and he whispers her name, unsteady, fingers tugging lightly at her brown locks.

“You like that, Lokes?” She tenderly bites the line of his rim and the moan that crawls out of him is loud and stunning.

“Do _not_ stop,” he hisses at her.

Well, of course not. 

Sharp _ohs_ and _ahs_ trickle out of his mouth like some forbidden melody as her tongue plays hide and seek with the craving nub that makes up his prostrate, pushing through velvet walls of heat that cling to her tongue instinctively. The god bends his entire back into a sinuous bow, stretching his legs wider before he wraps his calves around the back of her head, slowing guiding her further in, wantonly molding her lips to his moist core.

Although Loki doesn’t force her face against his hole like some other omegas tend to do, the hands behind her head scream of insistence. He drags and pulls without outright hurting her – Lord, how precious he is – with his breath blowing out in tatters while Darcy tortures him in the best way she knows how. Slowly and steadily, his panting increases to a starting crescendo as he writhes messily beneath her, up to the point where his own guttural noises, the ones he can’t contain any longer, start bouncing back to him from the walls of the bedroom.

Darcy elicits an absolutely breathless gasp from him and the murmured _please_ has her flicking her tongue further inside him, with more purpose this time. Her hands, far done with stroking goosebumps across the sides of his thighs, quickly sneak down to his soaked buttocks to squeeze each ass cheek with an experimental palm.

Hands on his rear, she props Loki’s body higher into the air, raising his lower half closer until her mouth is slammed against him. She knows he needs more, craves more as he bucks his hips against her face, shamelessly riding her mouth until the heat is pooled at the base of his belly and flushed low that the droplets seeping from the reddened head of his shaft shift into anxious spurts. His breath hitches again, louder into the night this time, and he suddenly squeezes his legs around her even tighter, so very close to coming to completion.

And it’s all over once she drags her tongue one last time over his aching prostrate, jabbing it with a click that shatters Loki inside out.

Sometime throughout all this, he had wrapped her dark tresses around his knuckles and the jerk of his hands tightens the hair around her skull, but Darcy doesn’t mind. His hips give a little spasmodic jerk that strains against him frenetically, thrusting his slicked ass at her face as his orgasm cripples his form into unstable shudders. Her own knot aches at his long and drawn-out desperate sob.

Loki explosively with pearlescent cream splashing everywhere – on his chest, down his legs, on the sheets, sprinkling on parts of her face – and when he’s done driving through his intense way of ecstasy, she languidly lowers him until his ass is splayed back on the mattress, her mouth leaving him with a wet pop. She wipes the residues of come and slick off her rose-tinted mouth with a thumb, grinning down at him as he looks up at her through dark, half-lidded eyes.

“It’s not enough,” he pleads, voice so ruined that Darcy has to bite back a moan. His hand slides up her thigh. “I need you _in_ me.”

“I know,” Darcy drops a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She makes quick work of getting rid of her clothes, very much aware of his eyes roaming around her bare skin, before she sits and pats her lap. “C’mon. I promise I’m okay now.”

He all but scrambles back onto her lap after that, opening himself up wide for her until the head of her knot breaches the first ring of his tight muscle. Wrapping his fingers around her small bicep, he uses that as leverage to slowly push his rim down on her, letting it flutter around her – holy shit, _holy shit_ – once she slides in so easily. He bares his throat and she reacts intuitively, scraping her teeth and running her tongue along the graceful arch.

“Darcy,” he says, rolling his hips in a tantalizing sway and lifting his body up from his haunches until he’s fucking himself down, quivering with need. _“Alpha—”_

She thrusts back in response, prompting him to wrap his arms around her neck like twinning swans, to rub his cheek against hers. “You’re _perfect_ , Loki. So fucking perfect.”

Loki rides her hard and fast, wholesomely without abandon, and Darcy lets him because he deserves it. Caught up in his heat pheromones, he deserves everything and the way he’s bucking at her is so heavenly good that she can’t find it in her to complain.

And then she finally starts reciprocating, finally starts thrusting her hips upward to pound deliciously hard at his prostrate, pushing at his moans to descend into thawed-out sobs. Loki honest-to-god _screams_ out in hot pleasure when she hits at the right angle, falling apart before her eyes when he orgasms the second time. Her knot finally swells inside him, her come filling him up as she digs her teeth into his shoulder as his muscles clench almost unforgivingly around her knot to secure it.  

Darcy thinks it’s fucking adorable the way the rest of his body melts all around her after that.

It’s a weird position to knot – granted, any sex position is bound to get awkward after the knotting settles in – but Darcy makes sure to be careful as she lowers both of them back on the mattress. She positions them on their sides, resting her cheek against his clavicle.

“Hey, Loki?” she mumbles after a while, which in all, is only about eight minutes because she can’t help herself.

A noncommittal grunt. “What.”

“Wanna hear about the time I tased Thor?” Okay, so not one of her proudest moments, but she figures it would be something he would want to hear.

His fingers weave into her hair, his nose nudging her temple. “Go on.”

She smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I just wrote that. I don't even know if I got the sex part right. 
> 
> Plot-wise, I have no idea where I'm going, but I'm just going to go on and continue this anyway.


End file.
